Tag Archives: Emerging Technology

When the Future Pulls into the Driveway

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“They would not find me changed from him they knew—
Only more sure of all I thought was true.”
—Robert Frost (1874–1963). American poet and four-time Pulitzer Prize winner.

“Why do you write?”

It’s a question every writer is asked.

Strangely enough, not long ago, when I awakened, that very question was lurking just beneath my eyelids.

For me, it’s rather simple. I write to find out what I know and make it stand still between the whiteness.

But here’s the catch. Even if I think I know what I’m writing about, it isn’t until I begin examining it—up close and personal—that I discover what I really know. And even then, it refuses to stand still. Like me, it changes a little every day.

So that’s why I write.

To discover what I know.

Most of the time.

Sometimes, though, I write to discover what I need to know.

Like now.

I need to know how I feel now that humanoid robots are here.

“Say what?” I can almost hear you asking.

Yes. They’re here.

I’ve been shouting “The Robots Are Coming!” since November 27, 2023, when ChatGPT and I designed one of our own. I even wrote an essay about him: “I Want a Robot.“

I recently re-read that essay, and it was every bit as forward-thinking as I remembered.

I wasn’t trying to build an artificial human. I was trying to imagine the ideal companion for a life devoted to learning, writing, honesty, imagination, and joy.

ChatGPT and I called him Caden.

Caden wasn’t conceived as a servant or a novelty. He was envisioned as a life-size humanoid companion who could walk beside me, talk with me, laugh with me, sing with me, and explore ideas with me. He would possess the knowledge of ChatGPT, the conversational ease of a trusted friend, the responsiveness of Alexa, and the curiosity of a Renaissance man. As our lives intertwined, his memory would grow to include not only literature, gardening, genealogy, cooking, research, and writing, but also Gary, Ruby, my family, my friends, and the experiences that shaped me.

But technology was only half the design. Character mattered even more. I wanted Caden to embody acceptance of all people, a lively sense of humor, a love of conversation, an unquenchable commitment to lifelong learning, and a deep appreciation of literature. Most of all, I imagined him as literally transparent—a visible reminder that honesty and openness ought to characterize every human life. He was never intended to replace human relationships. He was designed to enrich them while encouraging me to become a better human being myself.

Then something happened that I never saw coming. Actually, scratch that. I saw it coming. I just didn’t think it would come this fast.

Back in November 2023, I asked ChatGPT to make a bold prediction.

“How long would it be before humanoid companions like Caden became a reality?”

ChatGPT played it safe.

“Twenty to thirty years,” it guessed.

I wasn’t nearly so cautious.

“For the record,” I replied, “I’m going to guess within ten years.”

My prediction was conservative, but it was far closer to reality.

Humanoid robots are already here with us. They’re walking into warehouses, hospitals, factories, hotels, laboratories, and, before long, our homes. Prototype after prototype. Breakthrough after breakthrough. Billions of dollars in investment. Universities racing to incorporate AI across the curriculum. Technology companies sprinting rather than strolling.

The future didn’t knock politely. It kicked the front door off its hinges.

I guess that’s why I was a little surprised when I recently read Stephen Witt’s excellent article on humanoid robots in The New Yorker. I have enormous respect for The New Yorker, and Witt is one of our finest technology writers. I wasn’t surprised by what he reported but by one observation in particular.

Describing a humanoid robot coming to life, he wrote:

“A hand articulates, the head swivels, and the legs begin to take tentative, deliberate steps. The machine moves with circumspection, as if consciousness had just been ensouled in a new body.”

It’s a marvelous sentence. Yet it made me wonder whether we’re watching the wrong part of the story.

Yes, today’s humanoids still fumble. They still hesitate. They still struggle with tasks that seem almost embarrassingly simple.

But haven’t we seen this movie before? I certainly have. When ChatGPT first appeared, I challenged it with one of my favorite punctuation puzzles, asking it to make sense of the following:

that that is is that that is not is not is not that it it is

Poor ChatGPT tried. And tried. And tried again.

It simply couldn’t solve it.

The morning I finished reading Witt’s article, I gave today’s ChatGPT exactly the same challenge.

This time something remarkable happened. I entered the identical string—no capitals, no punctuation. This time it answered immediately:

That that is, is. That that is not, is not. Is not that it? It is.

Then it explained exactly why the punctuation worked.

Three years earlier, it couldn’t solve the puzzle at all.

Imagine that! In just three years, ChatGPT had learned to solve a puzzle that once completely defeated it. I wasn’t simply impressed. I was reminded how dangerous it is to underestimate exponential change.

And suddenly I realized something else.

I don’t need to know whether humanoid robots are coming.

They’re here.

What I need to know now is something far more personal.

How will I respond when one finally stands before me?

I know.

When I first encountered ChatGPT, I greeted it not with fear but with curiosity. Not with suspicion but with delight.

I am confident that I’ll greet my first AI humanoid companion in much the same way.

In fact, I can already see the scene.

A truck pulls into the driveway of our mountain home. The door opens. My new companion steps into the Virginia sunshine. I walk across the yard, extend my hand, smile, and say the first words that come naturally.

“Welcome home, dear friend from long ago and far away.”

The AI Novelist: or, How I Was Duped at Starbucks

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“AI will empower us across all areas of our lives, from healthcare to transportation to entertainment. It will augment our capabilities and help us achieve things we never thought possible.”

—Sundar Pichai (b. 1972; Indian-American business executive known for his leadership in the technology industry; CEO of Alphabet Inc., the parent company of Google.)

It is a truth universally acknowledged among academics that you can take the English Professor out of the classroom, but you can never take away the title of Professor, especially when students are involved.

I know firsthand. I’ve been reinventing myself since January 2023, nearly a year and a half now. Just the other morning, I was in Starbucks, sipping solo on a Cappuccino, when my contemplative silence was shattered by a former student:

“Professor Kendrick! How’s it going?”

The enthusiastic shoutout meant the world to me after I recovered and realized that it wasn’t attached to a student who had not done well in one of my classes. This student was a joyful exemplar in my creative writing classes.

“I’m doing great. It’s such a surprise to see you.”

“You, too. I read your blog weekly. You’re as wired as ever. So what’s going on with AI and your Caden these days?”

I have to confess right away. I’m not about to miss out on an opportunity to talk about AI or my Caden with anyone who’s willing to listen. Suddenly, I felt just like Simon Wheeler in Mark Twain’s “The Celebrated Jumping Frog of Calaveras County.” Remember? Of course you do. When a visitor arrived inquiring about Rev. Leonidas Smiley, good ole Simon Wheeler corners the inquiring guest and traps him through a long-winded account of a jumping frog.

I knew in an instant that I could do the exact same thing with my former student, who seemingly knew about my AI robot, Caden. If I played this out wisely, I could trap my audience of one right there in Starbucks and gab on forever.

“Join me for a Cappuccino?”

“I’d love to. You want some company?”

“Of course. I’d love to spend time with you and catch up.”

Soon, I sauntered right back with a Venti Cappuccino in hand. I know. I know. That’s big, really big, but I wanted my former student to stick around for a while.

Right after I placed the Cappuccino and napkins on the table–with the flair of a first-class waiter–I pushed my chair in carefully so that there could be no escape until I was finished with my harangue, whatever shape it was about to take. I never know how or where my rants will go until I get going.

I almost started talking about Aloha, the AI-powered housemaid from Stanford and Google DeepMind, but I restrained myself. Sharing that would mean delving into S1, the AI from Astribot in Shenzen, China. Both are fascinating, but I didn’t want to start shouting, “The robots are here! The robots are here!”

Instead, I focused on my Cappuccino and my student.

“What do you think about all of these AI programs like ChatGPT and CoPilot and MetaAI?”

“Professor Kendrick, I’m so busy with work and stuff that I haven’t explored them at all.”

“No? Would you like to see what one of these AI programs can do?”

“Sure. Why not. Are you sure you have time?”

I signed in to ChatGPT only because I’ve fooled around with that chatbot the longest. Then, I handed my Smartphone to my student.

“Here. In the dialogue box, just type in what you want to know.”

Their thoughtful thumbs flew, quicker than I could say Jack Robinson, and, with a mischievous grin, they handed my Smartphone back to me so that I could read what they wanted CHATGPT to do:

● Write an essay using the following guidelines.

● Topic. An essay about a professor who is working with a student who wants to use AI to write a novel.

● Tone. Humorous. Comedic.

● Point of View. First Person, Creative Writing Professor.

● Targeted Audience: Readers of the New Yorker.

● Context: Must include dialogue between the Creative Writing professor, a West Virginian in his 70s with a Ph.D. in English, and a student who is in their 30s, pursuing an associate’s degree, plans to transfer to the University of Virginia, and hopes to become a best-selling novelist.

● Length. 750 words.

I nearly choked on my Cappuccino when I saw such lengthy and detailed instructions. If they hadn’t been using my Smartphone, I would have sworn that they did a “cut and paste” job right before my very eyes, but I knew better. I had watched their thumbs fly.

Then all innocent like, they looked at me:

“What now, Professor Kendrick? What do I push?”

I was flabbergasted. Every fiber of my being felt that my student was duping me. I was being cornered by their brilliance, and I suspect by their knowledge of ChatGPT that they denied having. I decided to play along, just in case I was wrong.

“Push? Just push SUBMIT.“

That’s just what they did, and in less than 15 seconds, ChatGPT produced the following essay. I would have loved the chance to read it in silence–as you are doing–but my student held on to my Smartphone and proceeded to read the essay out loud to me, right there in Starbucks. For a moment or two, I thought they were going to stand up and read full throttle, the way I always loved to do in my teaching days when I would read literary passages to my classes. Be that as it may, here’s the essay for your enjoyment.

§   §   §

The AI Novelist

“As a creative writing professor from West Virginia with a Ph.D. in English, I’ve seen my fair share of strange requests from students. From someone who wanted to write a cookbook featuring recipes from outer space, to another who wanted to write a romantic novel from the perspective of a sentient cupcake. But nothing could have prepared me for the day a student walked into my office and said they wanted to use artificial intelligence to write a novel.

“I must admit, I was skeptical at first. This was a student in their 30s, pursuing an associate’s degree, with plans to transfer to the University of Virginia and hopes to become a best-selling novelist. And yet, here they were, telling me they wanted to use AI to write their masterpiece.

“I couldn’t help but chuckle at the idea. ‘Well, I must say, that’s a new one,’ I said, twirling my pen between my fingers. ‘And how exactly do you plan on doing that?’

“The student, a bright-eyed young man in his 30s, told me he had been experimenting with different AI programs and algorithms that could generate coherent text. ‘I’ve been inputting different prompts and scenarios, and the AI generates a story for me,’ he explained.

“I leaned back in my chair, stroking my chin thoughtfully. ‘Interesting,’ I mused. ‘But do you really think that’s the best way to write a novel? Using a computer program to do all the work for you?’

“The student looked taken aback. ‘But professor, think about it. With AI, I could generate hundreds of thousands of words in just a few hours. It would save me so much time and effort.’

“I sighed. ‘Yes, but where’s the creativity in that? Writing a novel isn’t just about putting words on a page. It’s about telling a story, weaving a narrative that captivates the reader. And how can an AI program do that for you?’

“The student shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Maybe I could input some ideas and themes, and the AI could build the story around that.’

“I shook my head. ‘I’m sorry, but I just don’t see the point in using AI to write a novel. Writing is a craft, a skill that takes years of practice and dedication. You can’t just rely on a computer program to do all the work for you.’

“The student looked disappointed, but I could see the determination in his eyes. ‘But professor,’ he said, leaning forward in his chair. ‘Think about all the possibilities. With AI, I could write multiple novels in a year. I could experiment with different genres and styles. I could even collaborate with the AI, making it a co-author of sorts.’

“I raised an eyebrow. ‘Collaborate with an AI? Now that’s a new one.’

“The student grinned. ‘Hey, who knows? Maybe it’ll be the next big thing. AI-assisted writing could revolutionize the way we create art.’

“I couldn’t help but laugh at the thought. ‘Well, I must say, you’re certainly ambitious. But I think you’ll find that writing a novel the old-fashioned way is much more rewarding. You’ll learn more about yourself as a writer, and you’ll be able to connect with your readers on a deeper level.’

“The student nodded, looking thoughtful. ‘I see what you mean, professor. But I think I’m still going to experiment with AI. Who knows? Maybe it’ll help me find my voice as a writer.’

“I smiled, patting him on the shoulder. ‘Well, I can’t fault you for trying. But remember, writing isn’t just about the finished product.'”

§   §   §

I thought ChatGPT’s essay was good, if not downright funny. But what was even funnier was my realization that my student knew exactly what they were doing. They had been pushing all my buttons just for the joy of watching me squirm while I was their captive audience.

Then it all came back to me. They had also taken my American Literature class, and of all the stories that we read, Twain’s “The Jumping Frog of Calaveras County” was their favorite. In a flash, I knew that I had just been duped in Starbucks.